


Tainted Garden

by nerdyglitterpatrol



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Fantasy Smut, OCs - Freeform, One Shot, Sex, Smut, incubus, original - Freeform, priestess - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23034283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyglitterpatrol/pseuds/nerdyglitterpatrol
Summary: The holy grounds of the temple garden become a lustrous field of raucous hedonism as a young priestess finds herself entranced by her mysterious elven guardian whose skin pulses with a supernatural shadow not unlike that he had sworn to protect her from.
Relationships: Guardian and master
Kudos: 14





	Tainted Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Some graphic sexual scenes  
> What could be interpreted as rape/non con
> 
> I may add more with these characters because I feel like there are more smut possibilities with this premise.

Tainted Garden

He was a sell sword hired to protect one of the region’s most promising young priestesses from an encroaching darkness that pulsed in the air and the thick forests that swallowed the land. Though he was something of a social pariah, his experience and extensive skill with all manner of supernatural beast and demon more than qualified him as a personal body guard for the sensitive girl who had just come into her supernatural power and was beginning her initiations to hone that power into a indominatble force for good. It remained to be seen, however if the higher order of the religious sect had known him for what he was. 

He stepped into the garden and sighed, shrugging off his heavy black armor, dumping it unceremoniously into a pile on the ground and stretched his weary arms, rolling his wrists. Though his was an unpleasant job with little gratitude, it was his custom to keep excessively clean, and to retain a soft floral frangrance as was his former custom as a high elf. Little clarity remained in his memory of that time, though bits and pieces of his former life lingered in trace customs and brief moments of vivid recollection. He still retained the agility and grace of his kind, and due to the remnants of his class could still find tolerance and at times, enchantment from those around him. He pulled the bands from his hair, loosening the braids, and they tumbled to his waist in soft waves of silver. He approached the fresh springs of the temple garden, bubbling hot before him, poised to enter. Through the canopy of white birch and aspens dappled sunlight streamed across his ashen skin. 

Suddenly from the corridor of the temple unbridled laughter filled the garden as a young woman ran out amongst the flowers, clearly fleeing from one of her attendants. She grew silent the instant she spotted Somhain nude before her. She was panting, out of breath from her flight, flushed, long lilac locks a tousled mess across her shoulders, cascading down to her full breasts barely concealed by thin strips of linen that betrayed her surprise and budding arousal through her pink hardened nipples. 

She was robbed of words but breathlessly stammered, “Som, ah I never expected to see you in the garden…I’m terribly sorry to interrupt…”

He felt the slow burn of his true nature pulsing deep inside him and summoned every ounce of his resilience to casually gesture to the hot springs in response, as if to say “clearly I came to bathe.” In spite of his efforts, smokelike tendrils of shadow leaked from him and swirled into his skin, creating a curious marbled appearance to his naked form.

“Oh I see you came to bathe. Now that I recall…your skin is always scented…with a subtle…pleasant…frangrance .” She attempted to lighten the mood with some conversation but found herself at a loss of breath toward the end of her attempt, the air around her somehow thick and stifling.  
“Ah,” she tugged at the linen gown clinging to her body with the sweat dewing on her skin. “It’s grown so humid, like the summer…how can you bear it there Som?”

 _I can’t at all_ , he thought miserably to himself and betrayed his desire with the same casual grace he’d assumed. “Altania, it’s best you leave here if it smothers you. I’d like to bathe in peace.”

“I’ve disturbed you I apologize,” suddenly it seemed something not herself moved her lips to add, “I came to bathe myself, it’s far more pleasant,” her eyes lingered on him as she paused breathless on the word pleasant, combing her fingers through her hair and pulling a mass of ringlets above her head, “than those towers of books that stifle,” she dropped her hair, it flared out behind her in a moment of regal beauty, and pulled it idly from her neck to lay across the opposite shoulder, leaning forward slightly to flatter the supple curves of her breasts as she examined a flower in the grass before her “and imprison me.” 

The shadows on Somhain’s arms flared and writhed in response to her shameless and overt seduction and the hunger in the core of him grew unbearable with each passing second. “You have no knowledge of imprisonment.” His eyes lingered on her breasts.

“Oh, but it seems you do?” She smirked, now only inches from him, breathing the words onto his neck and in hot breath against his ear, fingers lightly tracing the sensitive burning skin of his thighs to that trembling gushing shaft that had so completely betrayed him.

“You know nothing of what you do, Altania, stop…this.” His resolve faltered just enough to slip from his lips toward the end more like a plea than a command though he remained firm. He shrugged her off and stepped into the bath. 

“It’s thrilling…not to…know.” She murmured between soft moans as, unable to bear her arousal anymore, she slid a hand between her slick thighs to the sweet hot slit drenched in viscous sticky fluids.

Enraged Somhain released the shadows from his skin and they flared out like a living thing, entangling her in a snare of writhing shadow, restraining her arms and legs, forcing her legs apart to reveal her shameless lust. Thin tendrils swirled around her erect nipples and pulsed against them, the pleasure of it so unbearable she cried out.

The shadows pulled her to him as his eyes darkened into a deep black, ramlike horns bursting and curling out of his temples as he cried out a demonic guttural growl.

“Ah, what…has…happened Somhain? What…are you?” She managed to gasp through ecstatic moans, tendrils now sliding in and out of her exposed pussy, tantalizing, teasing, pulsing against her swollen clit.

“Isn’t it better,” he asked, sliding a long purplish tongue in her mouth and around her tongue, “not to know?”

He pulled her brusquely to him, no longer resisting, and forced his monstrous cock that had swollen immensely in length and girth deep inside her, her virginal blood gushing around his shaft as he rammed into her, mercilessly ravaging the tight hot warmth of her trembling hole that could barely contain him. 

Her moans were deafening, but none of the monastery would be any wiser as the garden was hidden by several layers of illusory magic Somhain had enacted to mimic a quiet uninhabited garden.

For hours she was bound, gradually decaying into something not quite human, or perhaps the most human of all, a bestial carnal girl mouth agape, tongue writhing, moaning desperately, begging for the incubus’ cock, all areas of her body trembling and sensitive to even the lightest of touches, which Somhain manipulated countless times to coax her into a trance like state of sexual bliss, denying her release just before yet another orgasm rippled through her and she received another gush of hot semen, demonic seed that corrupted her womb into newly insatiable sexual desire. She lay a willful slave to the crescendo of their moans intertwined and begging, permeated by the slick rhythmic slap of his penetration.


End file.
